DOES man stand in need of compulsion before he can be brought to humble
himself with sincerity? to look upon himself as a sinner? Is it not too
true that we in general dissipate our youth in vanity, and, instead of
employing all our faculties in the acquisition of what is good, make them
the instruments of our degradation? There are, doubtless, exceptions,
but I confess they cannot apply to a wretched individual like myself.
There is no merit in thus being dissatisfied with myself; when we see a
lamp which emits more smoke than flame, it requires no great sincerity to
say that it does not burn as it ought to do.
Yes, without any degradation, without any scruples of hypocrisy, and
viewing myself with perfect tranquillity of mind, I perceived that I had
merited the chastisement of my God. An internal monitor told me that
such chastisements were, for one fault or other, amply merited; they
assisted in winning me back to Him who is perfect, and whom every human
being, as far as their limited powers will admit, are bound to imitate.
By what right, while constrained to condemn myself for innumerable
offences and forgetfulness towards God, could I complain, because some
men appeared to me despicable, and others wicked? What if I were
deprived of all worldly advantages, and was doomed to linger in prison,
or to die a violent death? I sought to impress upon my mind reflections
like these, at once just and applicable; and this done, I found it was
necessary to be consistent, and that it could be effected in no other
manner than by sanctifying the upright judgments of the Almighty, by
loving them, and eradicating every wish at all opposed to them. The
better to persevere in my intention, I determined, in future, carefully
to revolve in my mind all my opinions, by committing them to writing.
The difficulty was that the Commission, while permitting me to have the
use of ink and paper, counted out the leaves, with an express prohibition
that I should not destroy a single one, and reserving the power of
examining in what manner I had employed them. To supply the want of
paper, I had recourse to the simple stratagem of smoothing with a piece
of glass a rude table which I had, and upon this I daily wrote my long
meditations respecting the duties of mankind, and especially of those
which applied to myself. It is no exaggeration to say that the hours so
employed were sometimes delightful to me, notwithstanding the difficulty
of breathing I experienced from the excessive heat, to say nothing of the
bitterly painful wounds, small though they were, of those poisonous
gnats. To defend myself from the countless numbers of these tormentors,
I was compelled, in the midst of suffocation, to wrap my head and my legs
in thick cloth, and not only write with gloves on, but to bandage my
wrist to prevent the intruders creeping up my sleeves.
Meditations like mine assumed somewhat of a biographical character. I
made out an account of all the good and the evil which had grown up with
me from my earliest youth, discussing them within myself, attempting to
resolve every doubt, and arranging, to the best of my power, the various
kinds of knowledge I had acquired, and my ideas upon every subject. When
the whole surface of the table was covered with my lucubrations, I
perused and re-perused them, meditated on what I had already meditated,
and, at length, resolved (however unwillingly) to scratch out all I had
done with the glass, in order to have a clean superficies upon which to
recommence my operations.
From that time I continued the narrative of my experience of good and
evil, always relieved by digressions of every kind, by some analysis of
this or that point, whether in metaphysics, morals, politics, or
religion; and when the whole was complete, I again began to read, and
re-read, and lastly, to scratch out. Being anxious to avoid every chance
of interruption, or of impediment, to my repeating with the greatest
possible freedom the facts I had recorded, and my opinions upon them, I
took care to transpose and abbreviate the words in such a manner as to
run no risk from the most inquisitorial visit. No search, however, was
made, and no one was aware that I was spending my miserable prison-hours
to so good a purpose. Whenever I heard the jailer or other person open
the door I covered my little table with a cloth, and placed upon it the
ink-stand, with the _lawful_ quantity of state paper by its side.